Harry from Da Hood
by Zaln
Summary: AU You've seen it all. Punk!Harry, Goth!Harry, Abductedbyaliensandraped!Harry. But you aint seen this. Dumbledore's little plan with the Duresley's failed, and Harry grows up in a place far from Surrey! Newark, New Jersey. A.K.A. Brick City.
1. Prologue Pt 1: CREAM

Hey, I'm alive (barely). This is a new fic that I've been bouncing around my head for awhile. It was largely inspired by that PyroHarry collection and So Sue Me by Lunakatrina. It's my take on a baddass lil' Harry with a humorous edge.

This story is also inspired by love for hiphop and street culture. I know a lot of people on this site hate that (read: stfu) but I don't care. This story is funny and it makes fun of many aspects of the hood life, but it's not out to bash it, so those expecting to see that will be disappointed. There will also probably be a lot of inside jokes. Maybe. Okay enough, here's the obligatory shit.

Disclaimer: Yo, I don't own this shit, and if you sue me, you won't get much. I mean seriously, they just turned off the heat in my house. I'm freezing my ass while I write this (I'm not even joking, got like 3 comforter on).

And now, on with the show.

* * *

Harry from Da Hood

Prologue: C.R.E.A.M.

If you asked an occupant of Privet Drive what they had seen on the night of June 31 1983, they most likely would tell they saw nothing out of the ordinary. While that might be true for some, others would tell you that simply because to say otherwise would be an extreme faux pause. What they _really_ saw was a huge, half-human, half-giant riding a flying motorcycle landing near Number 4 Privet drive. This very discreet maneuver, engineered the great Albus Dumbledore, was the first part of his master plan to protect the Prophesized Child. The second part of the plan to protect Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, from vengeful followers of the Dark Lord would be laid here.

"Albus, are you sure this is such a good idea?" questioned Minerva McDonagald, Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration Master. "I've seen these muggles, there the worst of sorts. For heaven's sake, they're more likely to stow him away in a cupboard than look after the boy".

"Minerva please,' Dumbledore replied, "I know it might seem so now, but I have faith that the Dursely's will warm up to the boy, After all, he is Lily's son and Petunia's nephew".

"Albus, I have always trusted you and I have faith in your abilities. But this time I believe you are wrong. These people will not-_can_ not take good care of him".

"He needs the blood protection his relatives will provide. Anything else is carries too great a risk" Dumbledore reasoned, "He must stay with his blood relatives that is the end of it" he finished, his tone resolute and final. "Ah here is Hagrid now".

And so preceded events that would soon become history. Harry Potter was left at his relative's house to be raised belittled and neglected. He would continue on to Hogwarts, be sorted in to Gryffindor, clash with Dark Lord yada yada yada.

Except this time, it didn't go down like dat.

* * *

When Vernon Dursely opened the door to get the morning paper, he was assaulted with a most horrible sight. "Petunia!" Vernon screeched-I mean yelled in a manly voice. "Somebody left trash on our door again!"

"Those despicable low-lives! I mean honestly, don't their parents know how to raise them properly? Our Duddykins will never be like that!" Petunia proclaimed.

Cue coughing fit.

"Did you hear that? Never mind, there's a note with it. Probably want us to take it to the dump for free. Bloody squatters, why don't they get a job!" Vernon growled. Then, like a man is supposed to, he dutifully rolled up his sleeves and said "Well Petunia, since you're the woman I think this is your job. I'll leave you to it then" and began to walk away.

"Oh no you don't Vernon!" Petunia cried, "This is a man's job. I have to water my rosebushes".

"Woman! When I tell you to do something you do it! Without any back talk!"

"Don't talk to me like that! Now you'll take care of it Vernon, especially if you want me to suck your little-"

"Okay! Okay! I'll put the bloody garbage in the bin!" Vernon cut her hastily. Damn her to threaten him with that. A man has needs you know.

Vernon continued to grumble as he bent down to pick up the trash, only to screech once again (wow, what a pussy) as the package moved in his hands. The bundle cried out as he dropped it on the floor, stumbling backwards into the door.

"Petunia it moved! Kill it! Kill it!" Vernon screamed as he hid behind his wife. Petunia just rolled her eyes and walked towards the crying bundle.

"For Christ's sake Vernon, it's obviously just a child" Petunia said, exasperation evident in her voice. Sometimes she wondered what ever caused her to marry such a punk ass bitch. For all his bluster, Vernon was really a coward. If it must have been his salary, because it sure wasn't his-

"Oh. Er, urrmph" Vernon coughed, "right, well, what does the note say?" Vernon asked in an effort to move past his earlier girlish actions.

Petunia reached down to pick up the note, ignoring the waling baby on her doorstep. "Vernon, pick up the child, it wouldn't do for our neighbors to get curious".

"Oh right. Of course" Vernon babbled. He grabbed the baby by its feet, carried it inside and threw it on the couch. Petunia closed the door behind them and them with a yell.

"Damnit Vernon, you're going to give it Flying Baby Syndrome or some such nonsense"

"Do you really care?" Vernon asked his wife.

"No. Now come here and read this" Petunia said. Vernon dutifully complied, walking over and taking the letter from his wife's hands.

"It's you from those freaks!" he exclaimed, "your freak sister and her husband gone and got themselves blown up! And they want us to take care of their demon spawn!" Vernon spat. "No way!" Vernon put his foot down. "I will not allow such abnormal-ness in my house"

"Quiet down Vernon, the neighbors might hear!" Petunia ordered fiercely, "besides, of course we're not going to take the brat" Petunia yelled to the now identified child still waling on the couch".

"But the freaks said he had to be in the presence of family" whined Vernon, "and you don't have any family left".

"Yes, and good riddance, but you still have family, and technically, the brat's your family too".

At that, Vernon once again became blustery "Now see here, my family is perfectly normal, and I'll not have that-that-_freak_ be put in the same lot as us decent folk!"

"Oh stuff it Vernon, you're missing the point. Surely you have some relatives that could take the boy. After all, it still counts as family, and those freaks can't say anything about that if we're asked. We followed their wishes, after all".

"Oh, I never thought of that" replied Vernon dumbly, "but who would want to take a freak like him?" Vernon questioned. "Surely not Marge, she has enough on her plate, the poor thing". At that Petunia rolled eyes but agreed that she would be unsatisfactory. She'd likely feed the boy to ripper.

"Don't you have any distant family?" queried Petunia.

"Well, there's my cousin Linda in London, but she has three lads of her own so she's likely not to want to take him" Vernon said.

"No Vernon you idiot, I mean _distant_ family, like, _really _distant"

"Oh, er, well, I might be able to get in touch with my father's brother's nephew's cousin's former roommate's sister in law" Vernon said, while scratching his head. "twice removed".

"Well, that's practically family right?" Petunia said with a skeptically hopeful voice.

"Of course" Vernon agreed.

"Right" Petunia concurred.

"Absolutely": Vernon confirmed.

"Ughk" Baby Dudley choked on a Twinky.

"She lives in the States, that should be far enough" said Vernon

"Well get on it right away, the sooner we get rid of it, the better".

* * *

Andrea Johnson knew one thing. At twenty-four, having four kids was some dumb shit. "Ay you little bastard!" she yelled, "Get da fuck off the sofa 'fore I knock ya fuckin' teef in!" she yelled at her three year old son. Yea, she loved her kids dearly. She demonstrated her love by beaning the little shit with the aspirin bottle she had been trying to open. "Goddamnit, I need a fuckin' vacation or somethin'" she sighed. Just then the phone rang. "Somebody pick it up!" she yelled. None of the deadbeats who happened to live with her bothered to comply, so with a growl she snatched the receiver off the wall.

"Hello" she growled, swearing to God that if it was a telemarketer she was grabbing her .22 and spraying the whole damn office. Again.

"Um, er, hi. Is, um, Andrea Johnson there" a hesitant male voice spoke on the other line.

"Yea mothafucka she's speakin' now what you want?" she questioned, her voice laced with hostility.

"Yes, um, my name is Vernon Dursely, I'm your brother in law's former roommate's cousin's uncle's-"

"Just tell what fuck you want!" Andrea yelled, cutting Vernon off.

"Um, well, you see-"

Andrea growled.

"Iwashopingsincewe'refamilythatyouwouldtakecareofachildforus"

"…the fuck you just say?"

"Erhum", Vernon coughed then repeated himself, this time slower. " I was hoping since we are family that you would take care of a child for us." Vernon asked, "I know it's asking quite a lot of you, but we really don't have the resources to support another child and we would really hate to have to send him to an orphanage so-

"Listen jackass, I already got four bad-ass lil' kids to feed, what makes you think I want anoth-" she started.

"We'll give you five-thousand dollars."

"- what's his name and when you gonna send him?" Andrea finished.

"His names Harry Potter and we'll be sending him to as soon as possible. Don't worry we'll make the flight arrangements and send you all the paper work. Bye" Vernon hung up abruptly.

"Damn" Andrea said softly to herself. She looked around her apartment. The place was falling apart. The tile was cracked and the ceiling was leaking. In the living room, the sofa was torn and moldy. There were dishes in the sink that were unwashed, and right next to the faucet was open electrical wires. All in all it was exactly what you'd expect for of low-, more like no-income housing in Newark, New Jersey.

"Why the hell did I agree to this shit?" she asked herself, pinching the bridge of her nose as the youngest of her kids woke up and began to cry. "Like I need another lil' brat around here, a brat that aint even mine". She shook her head, "but five G's? Aint had that kinda money in awhile. I can use that to get on my feet and get outa this dump". Then, suddenly, another thought struck her.

"What the fuck kinda name is Harry Potter?"

* * *

Wow, I just banged that out in like three hours. Yea, I know it's actually not that much, but for a kid with ADD, it's amazing. Hope ya'll like, it should get funnier when Harry gets g'd up. That won't be for awhile tho, I gotta work on my Naruto fics, especially Tension (before I get lynched). Check those out too.

Aight, leave a review or something ya bastards.

-Lord Z


	2. Prologue Pt 2: Funkorama

I'm back motherfuckaaasss. If you want an idea of where this takes place check out this music video: .com/watch?v=agX0PLiu3Is

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"I cause the ruckus, my area is fucked up, you're better off calling them Power Ranger motherfuckers!" - Redman, Funkorama

"HAAAARRY!!!"

Four children looked up simultaneously at the roar that shook the house. They then watched as a black haired blur zoomed in front of them.

"What the fuck did you do now son?" asked one of the kids to the black haired, green eyed child with a lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

"Can't talk now, gotta get the hell outa dodge!" replied a seven year old Harry Potter as he continued his escape from his latest escapades and the beast that sought his blood. Then, suddenly, a figure emerged from the doorway Harry had just fled from.

The four children took sight of the person that they all called mother, and then proceeded to burst out laughing.

"AHHAAHHAHA man look at her face!"

"Damnit P, where the hell did you even find those things hahaha"

"HAHAhahahAHAHha oh shit man, I can't breath-I can't brea-" THUMP.

"Um, I think D's dead guys"

"SHUT THE HELL UP THIS SHIT IS NOT FUNNY!"

The one responsible for this situation suddenly found himself cornered, his back against the wall with an enraged Andrea blocking all routes of escape. Maybe pranking madre wasn't such a good idea.

"Where do ya think you're going you little motherfucker?" said Andrea, her face absolutely demonic. "Think messing with me is funny do ya? Well I got something for you," she said, with a sadistic gleam in her eye. "And trust me, it's gonna hurt you a lot more than it hurts me. In fact it's not gonna hurt me at all, it's going to make me very, very, happy."

Her smile could only have belonged to the devil at this point. Then she proceeded to grab Harry by the hair and drag him back through that same doorway.

"AH! Shit, OW! Come guys help me, you're supposed to be my brothers man. Please, I'm begging you guys OW WHAT THE FUCK ANDREA?!"

The four children looked at each other. Then they proceeded burst out laughing a second time. Help Harry and face the wrath of their mother? Not a chance in hell kid.

-----------------------------

At ten years old Harry Potter was as different as they came. It wasn't because of his personality, wild, tough and somewhat reckless. No there were plenty of kids like that to spare around here. And it wasn't because strange things always happened around him, though that did make him stand out. It wasn't even because of the lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

No, what made Harry Potter so different was simply the fact that he was white. Or maybe I should say that he was white and living in Newark, New Jersey.

It was almost impossible to describe the place Harry found living. A city divided into five wards, it was every bit the burnt out industrial hell hole that people thought of whenever New Jersey was mentioned. Each ward had it's slight difference in the exact make up of minority ethnicities,

but they all held the same promise for the children that grew up within them.

Broken 40 oz. bottles on broken streets, puddles of piss in Project building staircases, vacant lots, drug deals down dark alleys and crackheads roaming the streets after nightfall; a lullaby of gun shots was what rocked these kids to sleep at night.

There was no money flowing into the community for development projects, and the school system resembled the prison system more than anything educational. After all, 'that's where these kids will end up anyway so they might as well get used to it' was the overall belief of the politicians and governors in power.

Growing up in such an environment has major effects on a child, and it tended to breed a certain type of kids like no other. Wild and reckless, they fought amongst each other for every scrap of resources available. They didn't believe in love, in any sort of fairness or justice: only that the strong survived and the weak were found chopped up in the dumpster.

Even the youngest among them recognized this.

And as such they honestly didn't give a fuck about much of anything besides living for the moment. In seemed the only thing that some of them ever cared about was their crew, because whether they were related by blood or not, your crew was your real family.

Being a white kid in this environment among mostly black and latino kids, Harry was grateful for his brothers. They all looked out for him, even if it was in different ways. He knew they all looked at him as their bad ass little brother despite the fact that he was adopted and looked nothing like them.

Shiny raven locks and emerald eyes was unheard of around these parts. However, except for the twins they were all half-siblings anyway, and family was family and they didn't let things like how they were related get in the way.

Harry was forever grateful for that.

That didn't mean Harry was spared from confrontation. Far from it. It seemed like every single day someone wanted fight him because he was different. When it came to fighting his brothers' idea of looking out for him was not stopping it from happening but making sure he knew how to woop some ass.

In the words of D, "No brother of mine is going out like a punk ass bitch! Now put 'em up and lemme show you why you don't fuck with one of us!"

No, Harry handled his own battles, but they always made sure he didn't get in over his head. Well, when they weren't over their own heads in drama at least.

Making his way to the front door of the house they lived in, Harry opened it and walked through to find his three of his brothers sitting on the on the stairs outside.

"Hey! Lemme get some of that!" yelled a boy. He was light skinned but still obviously black, with close cut wavy and hazel eyes.

"Nah bitch this is mine, go steal your own son!" Replied another boy who looked almost exactly the same. The only way to tell them apart was because the first one usually had a baseball cap and a baggy white-T on while the later wore a hoody with his hood up. Harry could always tell them apart regardless though. After all, they were his brothers.

"Who the fuck you calling bitch, bitch?!" screamed Damien, better known as D.

"You nigga! Nobody else around here fit the description. I mean, you so much of a bitch that I could prolly put you up on the Strip for five dollar blowjobs and cats wouldn't even wouldn't even notice!" replied Garette, also better known as simply G.

D just stood there flabbergasted for a second, before his eyes widened in rage. "I'MA KILL YOU MOTHERUCKER!!!!" he roared before diving at his twin and tackling him to the ground.

Within a moment both boys were up and swinging at each other like there was no tomorrow.

"This shit again? I mean like, come on yo", was the response from the third boy sitting on the stoop. He was older than the other two, with dark skin and beanie hat with skull and crossbones stretched across his head. Julius was his name, but his brothers called him J. He was the most laid back of all of them, probably because he constantly smoked marijuana, made evident by the blunt he currently held clutched between his fingers.

"Ayo, what up P?" said Julius to Harry. By now you should have realized that all the brothers called each other by the first letter of their names. Why did they call Harry P? Well, they all seemed to think it was hilarious that his last name was Potter, and calling someone H was just wierd.

"Nothing, chillin just trying to find my Redman tape, you seen that shit anywhere?" asked Harry.

"Nah man, but if I had to guess it was either D or Andrea, they're both hardcore Redman fans you know?" replied the brother.

Harry just shrugged, and was about to go back inside when a voice rang out that stopped everyone in their tracks.

"Just what the fuck do you think you are doing? And is that one of my beers over there?" came the quiet but deadly voice of a youngman. All siblings turned to see their eldest brother approaching.

At seventeen Z was the oldest of all them, and when he spoke, they all stopped to listen. His name was Zion, but call him that and he'd probably gut you. Z was somewhat seperated from the rest of his brothers. Andrea had him as her first child when she herself was only seventeen, and while she wasn't the model parent for any of them, she had definately learned plenty about what not to do while rasing Z.

His turbulent relationship with their mother had led to him being in and out of Group Homes growing up, and because he was the oldest no one really looked out for him growing up, so he'd been in and out of a lot of bad situations and it had left him somewhat...unhinged.

"Uhhhhhh, that was all G I swear yo!" explained D while making surrender gestures with his hands.

"I thought they were Andreas I swear!" yelled G while he began to sweat and prepare to make tracks. He sure as hell wasn't going toe to toe with his older brother, you needed a death wish for that.

"Hm whatever, I aint got time for this shit just stay out of my stuff, clear?"

"Crystal!" replied both twins at the same time, swallowing the lump that had risen in their throats.

Z shook his head before he spit on the street then turned to look at Harry. "P, come with me, I got something for you" said Z before he turned and started walking around to the backyard.

Harry looked at his other brothers, who just shrugged back at him, before following his oldest brother into the back yard.

"So what's this about Z?" Harry asked as soon as he got to the backyard. He didn't think that Z had any bones to pick with him, because Harry was close to all his brothers but out of all of them, he and Z were especially tight. Z was the one who taught Harry how to fight when he was younger.

"I kept seeing this fucking bird lurking around house for awhile, an owl or some shit. Eventually I shot it cuz it was bothering me but then I realized there was a letter attatched to it's leg". Z reached into one of the many pockets of his trademark combat jacket and pulled out a fancy letter.

Harry was confused why Z was telling him all this, that confusion died as soon as he saw who the letter was addressed to.

To Mr. Harry James Potter, 347 South Orange Avenue,

Dear Mr. Potter, you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please let us know if you are interested in attending. We will be sending someone to collect you.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress

"Is...is this some kinda joke?" asked Harry.

"Nah I don't think so. What, you don't think magic exists? What about all that strange shit that happens around you all the time?" asked Z with a quirked eyebrow.

"I don't know! I mean, I thought that shit was just coincidences, freak accidents! I mean, are you telling me that you knew magic exists?!" Harry questioned his brother, looking thoroughly freaked out.

"I guess you could say that. But I've seen things even worse then magic..." Z trailed off. A haunted look crept into his eyes.

That wasn't exactly the answer Harry was expecting, but then again, he never knew what his brother was going to say. It was times like these that something about Z really scared Harry.

"I guess the question is, do you want to go? They sound like they've already made up your mind for you which I don't like, so if you don't want to go I can introduce these people to my AK and stop this magic shit right here" said Z, the look in his eyes said he would be all to eager.

Yep, there was definately something about his brother that was not alright, but Harry loved him just the same. He knew that Z would always look out for him.

"I don't know. I mean, I think I want to go, something about this just feels right even though it's freaky as all hell..." said Harry

"Aight, then be on the look out for more owls or people wearing strange ass clothing. Might wanna tell Andrea and the others about this too before you just up and leave. By the way, I got something for ya."

Reaching into in combat jacket once again, Z revealed his gift as he pulled out a Glock 9 with two clips. Harry's eyes widened to saucers.

"For me?" He asked increduously. Z just smirked and nodded. Without another word Harry launched himself at his older brother and enveloped him in a hug.

No one had ever done something so nice for him before.

"Aw stop crying you little pussy, you're my kid brother man it's the least I could do" said Z

Harry pulled away, sniffed a couple times then composed himself, wiping his snot on his sleeve.

"Now remember, make sure the safety is on at all time when your not shooting, and don't point it at anything you're not prepared to kill! It's a not a fucking toy."

"Right mother", Harry replied with a smirk, then ducked as Z growled and took a fast swipe at him. As Harry ducked out of the backyard and into the house he couldn't help but think one thing.

"What the fuck kind of a name is Hogwarts?"

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If you wanna see what it looks like where Harry is living then check out this music video: .com/watch?v=agX0PLiu3Is

yooooo. I updated! What the fuck right? well I know it's been a long time and probably not what you wanted, but that's just how it is. stay tuned for more new shit hopefully.

Peace!

-Z


	3. Pick It Up, Pick It Up

New chapter. Yea, I know. Unfreakenbelievable right. Well it's here, for any of those who still have list on their list and for any new people, hope you enjoy it.

Btw, I edited the information in the second prologue so if you haven't read this in awhile go back and read it again, it should make a bit more sense.

* * *

Pick It Up, Pick It Up

"If you see a bag of weed on the floor motherfucker what the fuck you gon' do? (pick it up, pick it up!)" – Redman, Pick It Up

Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was confused. Being a master of her chosen craft, transfiguration, second to only the great Albus Dumbledore himself, it was not a position she often found herself in. The source of her confusion were eleven simple words printed on a piece of paper. She read them to herself once again to make sure she wasn't hallucinating-it wasn't the 60's after all and so what if she had taken a couple hits of acid in her youth-'_Ahem'_, she thought as she mentally cleared her throat.

Who does that anyway?

Back to the note. Yes, the note was rather perplexing. Not the actual note itself, as she had seen thousands of Hogwarts acceptance letters in her time serving as a faculty member. No, it was what was written on the top of the note that caused her current state.

Dear Harry James Potter, 347 South Orange Avenue, Newark NJ,

"This can't be right," she said to herself out loud. Mostly because her thoughts seemed to currently be intruded on by some outside source, and she vaguely remembered something about acid staying in your body forev-

"Focus, Minnie!" she yelled at her self. She shook her head to clear it, cheeks and lips wagging like a dog, but it didn't seem to help much. So she stepped it up a notch, slapping her face as if to wake herself up, but it looked more like a demented pre-game quiditch ritual than anything else. That didn't matter though, because she was the only one around anyway.

"Um...Professor?"

Ok, maybe not.

McGonagall looked over, eyes wide and hand still splayed comically across her face. Standing in the doorway was one of her Gryffindor second years. The poor girl looked at the professor with confusion written all over her face, and they both stared at each other in silence, neither knowing what to say.

It was very awkward.

"Ahem" McGonagall cleared her throat again, out loud this time, as she stood up tall and straightened her robes. Clearly she was trying to pretend like nothing happened, which is always the best course of action whenever you're caught doing something embarrassing.

"Er, I didn't mean to interrupt you, I mean, if this is a bad time I can come back later," the girl stammered out.

"No no, that's quite alright. What is it that you needed Ms. Patricia?"

"Yes, well, I was hoping you could help me with my transfiguration homework, but you're clearly in the middle of something so..." the girl trailed off, still looking at McGonagall as if she was questioning her sanity.

"Yes, well, there _is_an urgent matter that requires my attention at the moment. Perhaps you can ask one of our prefects to tutor you. I'm sure they wouldn't mind helping you out. Just let them know I told you to ask." said McGonagall, all prim and proper like.

"Um, yes. Yes that sounds like a good idea. I'll go do that now." replied the second year, clearly trying to get away from McGonagall now that she had the sneaking suspicion her professor might be a loon. The girl had almost made it out the door when McGonagall's voice reached her.

"Oh, and Ms. Patricia? As loathe as I am to take points away from my own house, I believe that what happened here would best be...conveniently forgotten. It would be a shame for Gryffindor to lose the house cup this year over a minor indiscretion." There you go Minerva. When all else fails, fall back on tried and true tactics. Like blackmailing a second year.

Nice.

"Yes, of course, Professor. As a matter of fact, I don't even know what you're talking about."

"Smart girl," said McGonagall with a small smile. "Now run along."

Patricia didn't need to be told twice, she almost tripped over herself trying to get out of the doorway. With that taken care of, McGonagall turned back to the matter at hand. Which was...

"Oh yes, Harry Potter!"

With renewed haste, the transfiguration professor snatched up the note and rushed out of the classroom. She passed by students in the halls as they stumbled to get out her way, shocked at the pace she was moving for it was almost a run. Quickly moving across the swinging staircases with practiced ease, she hurried down the hallway which led to the gargoyle in front of Dumbledore's office.

"Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans," she gasped out, annoyed that the Headmaster had chosen such a long, but incredibly easy to guess password. Everyone knew that Dumbledore loved sweets after all. It was almost like crack to him. Not that she knew what that was, of course.

The gargoyle leapt aside, but spared her a raised eyebrow look for her bedraggled state. "Oh stuff it!" she yelled backwards down the stairs. It seemed even inanimate-well animate-objects were questioning her today. Finally she reached Dumbledore's office and all but threw open the doors.

The sight that greeted her would be forever burned into her memory.

Albus Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy, was sitting at his desk.

With his pants down.

Immediately after the transfiguration mistress barged into his office, Dumbledore's head shot up in shock. However, he was not a master dueler for nothing, and his reflexes saved him. In an instant, the Chief Warlock transfigured himself some new pants, wandlessly no less, and disabled the viewing portal which he was looking at. However, there was just enough time for McGonagall to catch a glimpse of what he was looking at.

_'Was that...the Headboy and Headgirl...doing what I think they were?'_If it was, it gave a whole new meaning to the term Headgirl.

"Ahem," Dumbledore cleared his throat. Apparently, teachers in Hogwarts had a lot of phlegm.

"Am I, interrupting something?" McGonagall asked, still reeling the image of the man's old, wrinkly-

"No, it's quite alright Minerva. Is there something you wished to speak to me about?" Apparently, Dumbledore had received the same lessons on embarrassing situations as she had.

Touché.

"Who said that? Nevermind. Albus, we have an emergency here. As you know Harry Potter is due to attend Hogwarts this year, but-"

"Yes yes Minerva, I am quite aware of that. Young Harry is coming of age. It's a wonderful time in a child's life."

"No Albus it's not that! There's something wrong with his home ad-"

"Minerva, you know he has to be there because of the blood protections that have been placed on him."

"Will you stop cutting me off? Listen, he's not where he's supposed to be-"

"Now now, we've gone over this before Minerva. As I've said, you just have to trust my judgment on the matter and leave it at that."

"Arrrggghh!" McGonagall growled in incoherent rage as she all but ripped her hair out of her head. "Bloody hell Albus, just read the bloody note!" she screamed as she shoved the admittance letter onto his desk.

"Really now, that's no way for a Hogwarts professor to tal-" Dumbledore cut off mid-sentence, eyes widening as he took in what was written on the letter.

_'Take that you patronizing old prick'_thought McGonagall. Apparently, she's not just an extortionist, she's a closet potty mouth too.

"Oh dear. This, this isn't right at all! He's supposed to be in Surrey, with Lily's sister."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you Albus. When I saw the address that was written on this I came straight away. You know the locator spell is never wrong, but I always check anyway just to make sure the child is where they are supposed to be. But I've never even heard of this place!"

Albus Dumbledore became deeply concerned, his demeanor shifting into business mode, where he was able to analyze any information down to the most minute details to discern things that few others would be able to see.

"Well, the letter was still sent to him, so we know that wherever he is, at least he's alive."

Ok, maybe not. And what's that? Oh, that's just McGonagall bashing her head against the stone wall. No biggie.

"Still, the address worries me. I have never heard of this Newark NJ." After stroking his beard in thought, Dumbledore proceeded to pull out an extremely magical artifact. A map. "There we are," he said, while pulling out his wand, "Now _Point Me_, _Newark NJ". _Well there had to be something magical about this whole thing.

Dumbledore's wand spun, before pointing straight down on a spot on the East Coast of the United States.

"There it is! See, it's not so bad Minerva. He's just across the Atlantic ocean is all."

"But Albus, how did he get all the way to the United States?" asked McGonagall, as they both dutifully ignored the stream of blood that was now beginning to trickle down her face.

"That is the question my dear. We will have to answer it in due time, as a matter of fact, I'll get Severus on it right away."

"But who's going to pick up the boy?"

"I had planned for Hagrid to do it. Of course, that was before I knew he was in another country. But still, I don't see any reason why he shouldn't still be the one to pick him up."

McGonagall wanted to question that. She wanted to remind Albus how absent minded Hagrid was, or how sending a half trained wizard across national borders secure what amounted to a national hero was incredibly stupid. But after everything she had been through today, all she could muster up was this:

"Whatever."

McGonagall then proceeded to turn around and head right back out of the Dumbledore's office.

"Where are you going, Minerva?" asked Dumbledore.

"To get drunk. Very, very drunk," she replied.

"Oh, ok. And Minerva?" McGonagall stopped at the very threshold of the doorway, temper fraying at being in Dumbledore's presence for even a moment longer.

"Yes Albus?"

"I'd hate to lose my best Deputy Headmistress over a little...indiscretion. It would be best if what you saw was...conveniently forgotten, if you catch my drift."

Damn, this guy is good.

McGonagall's mouth flopped open, a sense of Deja vu overwhelming her, before her shoulders sagged and she replied with a weak "Of course, Albus. As a matter of fact, I have no idea what you're talking about." She finished.

"That's a good lass," said Dumbledore, before waiting until his office door closed and her heard the gargoyle down the stairs move, then turning his attention back to the viewing portal on his desk. 'It's a shame that those two are probably done already, I always like the live shows' he thought to himself with a sigh. Then he perked up. 'At least these things come with a record feature!'

* * *

Hagrid was confused. It was not the first time. In fact, having never completed his education, it happened quite often. However, this time he felt that his confusion was quite warranted. He had taken an international portkey from London to New York City. From there, he had portkeyed to the Portkey Waypoint at Newark International Airport.

After that, things started going downhill. He had tried to get a taxi, one of those moving muggle carts that he had heard about, but none had stopped for him. Well, one did, but trying to fit his extremely large body into a much smaller taxi had proved an exercise in frustration. Finally he managed to catch a bus, which he was more familiar with because of the Knight Bus, but the darn thing went so...slow.

After getting off the bus, and trying to convince the bus driver to take a galleon because he had no sort of muggle money ("yes, how many times do I have to tell you, it's real gold!), he had found himself walking down the streets of a very strange place.

The sidewalks were cracked, looking as if they hadn't been fixed since when he was still in school at Hogwarts. The houses around him were run down, with barbwire running on top of fences which sectioned off empty lots. Some houses were boarded up, but he still saw people coming in and out of a few. But then again, those people looked a bit...odd. Sort of twitchy like. To top it off, people were looking at him extremely funny. Hagrid was used to being stared at because of his size, but most often people were intimidated by him. But the people he saw, huddled around street corners and building steps, didn't seem intimidated by him. In fact, it almost seemed as if _they_ were trying to intimidate _him_.

It was a surreal experience, and a little intimidating. Just because he was out of his comfort zone though, not because they were actually scaring him. Of course not.

But he was at a loss. He had no idea how he was supposed to reach the address he had been given, and he was beginning to question if Harry Potter was even here. 'I mean, how could the savior of the wizarding world end up in a place like this?' he thought to himself. Frustrated, and almost about to give a up hope, he walked by another boarded up house and happened to see a man coming out of it. At least, he thought it was a man. But why was he shaking like that?

"Er, excuse me?" Hagrid politely asked, "Can you tell me which way is 347 South Orange Avenue?"

The man looked at him, eyes glassy, and continued to shake before speaking. "Yo maaan. Can you help me out man? I just need a few dollars man. Whateva you neeeed man. I got you man, I'll suck yo dick! Man..."

Now Hagrid may have been a bit dull, but he had never been hard of hearing. He couldn't have heard that right though. "Excuse me?" he asked again.

"Come on maaan, I'll suck yo dick man..."

Now Hagrid's face became all red, his eyes screwed up. He pulled himself all the way up to his full intimidating height. "What did you just say to me?"

The man's eyes widened.

* * *

Hagrid walked out from behind the boarded up house he had previously been standing in front of. His gate was lazy, he had goofy smile on his face, and he casually re-did his belt buckle as he walked back towards the sidewalk. Behind him, his new friend half twitched half walked towards the sidewalk as well. When they reached the sidewalk, Hagrid awkwardly turned towards him and stumbled for what to say.

"Um, thanks...I reckon? By the way, sorry to ask this now, but can you point me towards 347 South Orange Avenue?"

"It's over there man," said Hagrid's buddy, pointing towards a house a few deep on the street that was at the corner.

"Oh! Alright then...thanks again!" Hagrid said as he began to walk off.

"Hey man! I thought you was gonna help me out man!..."

Hagrid stopped. "Oh, right! Well, what do you need?" He asked.

"Some cash man...Just help me out man..."

Hagrid rummaged through his pockets and pulled out two knuts (Hah), then thought about it and decided to give more than it. It _was_pretty good, after all. Instead, he pulled out two silver sickles and handed them over. As soon as the crackhead saw them, his eyes widened. Then, he began convulsing just thinking of all the rocks he could get with it.

Hagrid watched him, then slowly began to back away. By the time he had taken four steps it had turned into a full on sprint. After all, Hagrid didn't want to be around to find out what happened next. If asked, he didn't see nothin'. Who said wizards were dumb?

Reaching the corner, and now thoroughly out of breath from moving large mass over medium distance in short time, Hagrid spotted a sign that read "South Orange Ave."

"This must be the place then," he said to himself. Looking up at the house on the corner, he saw it was numbered "343". The mailbox on the next house over read "345". Correctly guessing that the next house after that should be 347, he looked over, and was surprised at what he saw.

Three kids were sitting on the steps. They were laughing and joking, antagonizing each other and all around being just comfortable in each other's presence. Still, they didn't look like the type Harry Potter would associate with. Hagrid didn't want to be rude. What if it was the wrong house? Having no manners might be acceptable to these Yanks, but a proper British bloke knows how to be courteous. Yet, the address was right there, staring him in the face. He didn't want to go back to Dumbledore only to tell him he had let him down. Albus Dumbledore was a great man, and if he could handle all the things that were dumped on his plate, than Hagrid could handle being uncomfortable for a bit.

Mind made up, Hagrid approached the house, determined to complete his mission. As he got closer he happened to notice that they were watching him. It was discreet; they were still laughing and joking to each other, but Hagrid had had enough eyes on him to know when people were looking. He was barely a few a feet away now, and it was now or never.

He came to a stop in front of the first step of the house, and the boys immediately stopped joking with each other, though they didn't stop what they were each doing. He noted one boy was smoking a cigarette, idly blowing smoke rings as he sat on the steps. Another boy, who looked like he could be the first one's twin, was sipping on a bottle of something which, to Hagrid's half giant's senses, smelled strongly alcoholic. The last boy, whose skin was much darker than the first two, was lazily sprawled out on the top step, smoking on something that looked like a cigar but smelled something like the hash they had back in England.

Of course, Hagrid himself had never partaken in such activities. Of course not.

But the strange thing was not what they were doing by itself, but how young the boys were on top of what they were doing. The first two didn't look like they could be older than a second year, the other one barely a third year.

"Can we help you?" asked the one smoking a cigarette. A navy blue baseball cap with the letters 'NY' stamped on the front and rather large white T-shirt covered his frame. But all three of them were looking at him expectantly.

"Er, well, yes. Does Harry Potter live here?" asked Hagrid. He didn't expect for their eyes to narrow, or for the boys to all looked at each other before looking back at him.

"Who wants to know?" asked the one wearing a sweatshirt with the hood up. He took another swig from his bottle as he stared Hagrid in the eyes. This time Hagrid wasn't struck by how young the eyes looked, but the opposite; they looked old. Older than their years at least.

Hagrid was beginning to get uncomfortable. He could feel doubt creeping up on him that Harry Potter was indeed here, with these children. Not only were these kids obviously low lifes, but they were, well...black. Come to think of it, he had only really seen colored people in this whole city, except for a few rare exceptions. His eyes must have displayed his doubts, because all of a sudden the boy with the hood spoke up.

"The _fuck _is you lookin' at, muhfucker?"

Hagrid was taken aback. "What?"

"Did I stutter? I said, the _fuck_ is you lookin' at you Andre the Giant ass muhfucker?"

The boy with the baseball cap chimed in. "Yea, you squinty eyed can't fit through a door sideways ass muhfucker."

Not to be outdone, the third boy added his own opinion, "Backwoods Paul Bunyan ass looking muhfucker."

Now Hagrid was normally a very gentle giant, but when people got to talking about his mother, he understandably took offense.

"Now listen here! You're not going to talk about my-" that's as far as he got before everything changed.

The first boy cut a quick look to the boy on the top of the steps as he flicked his cigarette. "J, you holdin'?" He got a nod in return, as 'J' put his blunt out on the step and sat up with his hand on his waste. The first boy's eyes cut to his 'twin'. "D?" he asked. "I got the Ox," 'D' responded. All eyes returned to Hagrid, and now they weren't the lazy, if jaded eyes of underprivileged children. No, now they reminded Hagrid more of a pack of hungry piranhas. They eyed him down, waiting for him to make one wrong move before shit got real.

That is, until the front door opened.

"Um, what's good ya'll?" the voice of their youngest brother carried out of the doorway onto the steps. None of the boys looked up, keeping their eyes on Hagrid even as the boy in the baseball cap, better known and G, answered Harry's question. "This nigga says he's lookin' for you P. We asked why, but then he started gettin' all belligerent like he wanted to start some shit."

However, Hagrid's attention was drawn to the child that had stepped out the door. The boy was completely different from the others. Obviously caucasian, his messy, jet black hair and emerald eyes let Hagrid know immediately that this was the boy he was searching for, even with the scar on his forehead covered by a baseball cap turned backwards. He had found Harry Potter at last.

"Harry!" exclaimed Hagrid. "I'm here on behalf of Hogwarts. The name's Hagrid, I'm here to pick you up!"

All of a sudden, the looks on the three boy's faces changed from aggressive, to plain shocked.

"Holy shit P! You weren't kiddin' about that shit?" said G.

"Damn son! I thought you were just fuckin' with us!" exclaimed D.

J was the only one who seemed unmoved. "Word? You're from that magic school? Aight then, show me some magic right now."

"Well, actually, strictly speaking, I'm not supposed to do magic in front of muggles," replied Hagrid.

"What?" asked J.

"Non magical folk," explained the half giant.

"Oh, I get it," replied J as he sat back nonchalantly. "You're scared aintcha? Damn P, how does it feel to know that your teachers are a bunch of pussies?"

The two twins looked at each other, before they burst out laughing with a bunch of "oh shit son!"s and "you just got burned!"s. Hagrids face once again became flushed and angry, and he considered doing some magic on the young boy who had just challenged him. But then, it wouldn't do to attack someone who Harry was obviously close to. So instead, Hagrid took out his umbrella, and aimed it at an empty soda can lying on the street. A flash emitted from the tip, and then the soda can sprouted legs and began to walk around. The look on the three boys faces was priceless.

"Oh my fucking God, do you see this shit?"

"No fucking way man, no fucking way!"

Hagrid didn't care for the boy's reactions; he was only concerned about what Harry thought. The look on Harry's face was one of wonderment. "Am I going to learn how to do that?" he asked.

Hagrid grinned. "Trust me Harry, that's just a parlor trick. What you'll learn at Hogwarts will make that seem like child's play!"

Harry said nothing for a moment, just staring at the soda can that was walking around in circles with its newly created legs, before turning to his older brother. "I think he just got you, J."

"No shit," said one of the twins in the background.

J merely looked at the half of blunt he had put out, before looking up at the sky. "I gotta stop smoking this shit," he said finally.

Hagrid took this moment to chime in. "Well Harry, are you ready to go?"

"Yea, actually. I've had my stuff packed for days now," Harry replied. "Gimme a second," he said as he rushed inside.

The three boys and Hagrid were left alone, staring at each other awkwardly. Finally, D looked over at the can still walking in circles. "Ok, that shit is freaking me out now."

Harry returned from inside the house, a backpack and luggage bag now in his possession. He walked down the steps, before turning around and looking at his brothers. They were staring at him, and it was beginning to unnerve him. "What?" he eventually asked.

"It's just that..." D started, before trailing off. G finished off what his brother couldn't find the nerve to say.

"We're gonna miss you, kid."

Harry shook his head, his own eyes getting misty now that the weight of what he was about to undertake began to fully hit him.

J decided to speak up, blowing out smoke from the blunt that he had just re-lit, despite his earlier proclamation. "Just don't forget about us bruh. We always got your back P, no matter what."

Harry looked up at the oldest brother present, before shaking his head. "I could never forget about you guys, ya'll are my brothers. I don't care how cool this magic shit is, I'll never forget where I came from."

That seemed to comfort the boys a bit, as they all stood up and walked down the steps to give Harry their farewells. They each clasped hands with Harry in a way Hagrid had never seen before, but which he would come to learn was called a 'dap', before pulling Harry into a one armed hug.

"Andrea's gonna be pissed when she gets home," said D.

"It's not like she didn't know I was leaving. Besides, it's not like she really cares, anyway," Harry replied.

"You know our mom P. She does have a heart. Deep down in there, somewhere, even it's really small. And black. And barely hanging on with life suppor-" G smacked his twin over the head.

"What D's trying to say is that she does care about us, just in her own twisted way. But don't worry about it, she'll understand."

With the fair wells taken care of, Harry began to walk off with Hagrid, who looked increasingly uncomfortable the more time went by. However, before he had even taken five steps, his brother called out to him.

"Yo P!" said D. Harry turned around to see his brothers waving him back. Confused, he turned around and left Hagrid standing on the sidewalk as he jogged back.

"Yea?" asked Harry.

D only grinned, before taking a swig of his bottle and then handing it to Harry. "Take a hit, for good luck." He said. Harry laughed. That was something only his brother would say. He took a swig of the Hennesy, coughing a bit as it burned his throat. G took that moment to speak up.

"You gotta hit this too, son," he said as he handed Harry a newly lit cigarette. Harry willingly obliged, taking a drag of the cigarette and blowing it out without even coughing. Hagrid's eyes narrowed as he noted that this was obviously not Harry's first time doing either. Finally Harry looked up at his brother J, who was still puffing away at his blunt. "J?" he asked hesitantly. J smirked back at him.

"Don't push your luck kid, you're still too young for that" he said with a laugh.

"Damnit!" cursed Harry, which only made J laugh more. Looking to vent his frustration at once again being denied the herb, Harry kicked the walking can against the wall. Grumbling angrily, he walked off muttering something under his breath that sounded vaguely like "bitch ass nigga".

"What did you say?" yelled J from the stoop.

"Uh, gotta go! See you guys later!" said Harry as he grabbed Hagrid's hand and tore off down the street. He knew his brother wasn't objecting to the 'nigga' part. Harry was around them long enough to know they didn't care if he said it. Still, he tried not to make a habit of it because when it came down to it, he was still white. No, it was the 'bitch ass' part that got his brother riled up.

"Yea, you better run!" yelled J after his brother. They all watched as Harry and the much larger Hagrid hit the corner and turned the block and disappeared from site.

They sat their for a long moment, none of them breaking the silence. Until eventually, G spoke up, looking over at the can still walking around.

"So...which one us is going to kill that shit?"

"Not it!"

"Not it!"

"Not...aw fuck!"

* * *

Harry and Hagrid were on their way back to Newark Airport. Harry had managed to get Hagrid a bus pass with the meager amount of money he had, and they talked a bit about this and that as the ride went by.

"So Harry..." Hagrid began, "Those kids...are your brothers?"

Harry looked away uncomfortably. He knew this conversation was coming, it always did no matter who met his brothers, but he hated it just the same.

"Yea, they're my brothers." He said. He saw Hagrid about to say something, but Harry cut him off. "Look, I know what you're going to say. But you can save it. Sure, they're kinda rough around the edges. Okay, mad rough around the edges. But they're all I got in this world. I would die for those kids, and I know they would do the same for me. And..." Harry looked away, hating all this emotional shit but knowing it had to come out. "And I'm not even related to them by blood, I'm just adopted. But they never treated any different, even though I look nothing like them. They always looked out for me no matter what. And I don't give a fuck what you think, no one's gonna talk bad about them in front of me, ok?"

Hagrid was taken aback for what seemed like the hundreth time that day. "Alright Harry. I understand. At least, I think I do." He didn't want to tell Harry that he was rough around the edges, too. Not at all like Hagrid expected.

"Good," was all Harry said. Hagrid stayed quiet, for a second longer, before he couldn't hold it in any more.

"Um, sorry, but I have to ask this," Hagrid began.

"What?"

"When I was talking to your brothers and things got a little, well, tense I reckon is the word, they said something to each other that had me really confused."

"Oh, what was that?" asked Harry, genuinely curious.

"Well," started Hagrid, "One asked the other if he was...holding, I think? And that one said yes, and when he asked the other boy, his twin if I remember correctly, he replied that he had an ox or something. It was all rather queer."

At this, Harry began to laugh nervously. "Ehahaha. Yea, um, you shouldn't worry about that. It's just some slang terms that people use around here. They don't mean anything important," lied Harry. After all, who's going to tell their future teacher that one of their brothers asked the other if he had a gun on him, which he did, and another one replied that he was carrying a box cutter.

"Okay. If you say so," answered Hagrid gullibly. They spent the rest of the bus ride in silence, each wrapped in their own thoughts.

A little while later, the bus pulled into to Newark station and Harry and Hagrid both got out. Hagrid bumbled through the station with Harry in tow, backpack and luggage back swinging behind him. The reached what looked like a wall, and Hagrid stopped in front of it.

"Okay Harry, are you ready?" he asked.

"Ready for what?" Harry asked in turn.

"Just hold my hand and don't let go, alright?"

"Um, I don't know if I'm comfortable with this," said Harry.

Mistaking his nervousness about hand holding with a very large grown ass man for something else, Hagrid grabbed the boy's hand and looked over at Harry. "Okay, on three."

"What the fuck are you talking abou-" Harry didn't have time to even ask the question as Hagrid finished his count down. He was nearly yanked off his feet as Hagrid took off at a run towards the wall.

"Holy shiiiiit!" screamed Harry as he braced himself for impact. Only it never came. Instead, there was a feeling like moving through jelly, before he found himself somewhere completely different. He looked up, only to see something that astonished him. All around him, were people wearing the weirdest clothes. They looked like some kind of robes. Everything was topsy turvy too. Pictures on the walls were moving, people spoke in loud voices without a microphone, owls and cats and animals he had never even seen tagged along with whole families dressed as if they were at a Halloween theme party. Well, a witches and wizard themed party.

"Welcome to Newark Airport Portkey Waypoint Station!" said Hagrid with a huge grin on his face. "No time to stop now, we have to make it before the next jump closes." Dragging a bewildered Harry along, Hagrid made his way up to one of the people behind a booth. They spoke for a minute, but Harry was too dazed to even try listening in. After thanking the lady, Hagrid turned back to Harry, face beaming.

"You must be good luck! Looks like there's a direct portkey to Diagon Alley! Well, not exactly direct, but we don't have any layovers" explained Hagrid. Harry just nodded dumbly, to numb with shock to do anything else. "Come on, the terminal is over here."

Hagrid dragged Harry to what looked like a simple line that lead to a small silver platform. People were walking up to the platform, touching a round silver ball, and then disappearing. "Hagrid!" Harry finally spoke up, "I don't know if I'm ready for this!"

"Nonsense!" replied Hagrid, "I mean yes, it's a little disconcerting at first but it's not so bad." Pushing his way up to the front of the line while flashing a badge that said VIP, courtesy of Dumbledore, Hagrid briefly checked things out with the attendants before pulling Harry's hand up to the silver ball.

"Hagrid, this seems like a really, really, bad idea," said Harry. He was having second thoughts about the whole magic thing. Hagrid paused for a second, looking at Harry with a slightly confused expression, before a mischievous grin spilled onto his face.

"Well now Harry. Don't tell me that you're scared," he said.

Harry's bravado came back with a vengeance. "The fuck you talkin' about? I aint scared of nothin'!"

"That's the spirit! Hold on tight!" And with that, both their hands touched the silver ball. Immediately Harry felt a tug somewhere behind his navel, as if he had just been caught on a hook, then the world blurred. The next thing he knew, all he could feel was the pressure of being dragged around at light speed from behind his belly button. He was doing all he could just to hold on to his luggage. A few times the ride seemed to stop for a second, only to pick back up again for a shorter distance. Finally, after what felt like an eternity to Harry, they finally came to a complete stop.

Harry spilled onto the floor, room spinning from the sickening mode of transportation as well as the shot of Hennesy he had taken.

"See, not so bad right?" asked Hagrid.

"Blarghh" was Harry's only reply as he puked all over the portkey terminal.

"Er, maybe that was a little much for your first time," admitted Hagrid timidly. Harry recovered well though, wiping the vomit from his mouth as if nothing happened and standing up to the look around. If he had the thought the Airport was a trip, it was nothing compared to this.

Hagrid smiled as Harry looked around, completely awestruck. "Welcome Harry, to Diagon Alley."

* * *

I seem to resurrect at the oddest moments. Actually tho, I'm done with school for a looong time, if I choose to continue at all. So there's no excuse for me not crank out a chapter of something at least monthly. Fav for updates, and if you think the story is a little wacky or disconcerting, jumping from crackish to serious, especially with the narration, stick with it. All will be explained in the end. Till next time

-peace,  
-Z


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